


Daily Flirt

by DagReaper (TyJaxDrax)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 7/1, A Week With Clint Barton, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bad Flirting, Bucky And Clint Didn't Meet Before This, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Is So Done, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton is a Disaster, Cooking, Domestication, First Meetings, Fluff and Crack, Human Disaster Clint Barton, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyJaxDrax/pseuds/DagReaper
Summary: A week. He was spending one week alone in a Stark-house with Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye.[Or, the one where Bucky's stuck with Barton for a week, and each days has a new pickup line]





	1. Day One

A week. He was spending one week alone in a Stark-house with Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye.  _ Stark-house  _ was his combination of a safehouse and a building that Tony Stark owned. He’d heard about Hawkeye and the stuff he’d done. He’d been an assassin for hire before Shield got to him and then the Avengers years later. But he’d never met the guy, personally. 

He shot a dirty look at Steve, seeing the guilt hit him for a moment. The mission the Captain was called on was abrupt and would last a week. They didn’t get time to set a plan for the ‘Winter Soldier’ holding cell, so they had to get someone that could handle him, and Hawkeye happened to be the option. Stark laughed, Steve huffed, having muttered something about a _ ‘walking disaster’  _ and Romanoff only smirked, like she knew something none of them didn’t. 

They were waiting in the Lounge room of Stark’s Tower, all relaxed and just sat there. A few conversations here and a few there and Bucky turned his head towards the elevator, everyone doing the same as it made a sound before the doors opened, a guy about the same height, if not a little taller, stepped in, a grin on his face.

Bucky only scrutinized him from a distance, noting how Romanoff seemed more casual than neutral as she strode over and gave him a quickly shoulder shove. He’d returned it, his wide smile still there before he turned to look at the other few in the room.

“Hey, guys,” he crossed his arms over his chest. Bucky noticed the immediate fondness on Steve and Stark’s face, regardless of what was said before, about him being a ‘walking disaster’. They seemed glad and happy he was there. He saw them stand to greet him, the Soldier watching calculatingly before only standing and that seemed to catch the Hawk’s attention. 

Bucky paused, seeing the sudden wide eyed expression, his gaze running over him like he was something he’d never seen. He narrowed his own eyes and watched him darkly, suspicious.

“Daym. I know milk does a body good, but baby, how much have you been drinking?” Bucky’s eyes almost immediately grew wide at the words, speechless for a moment.

“What?” Steve asked before him, his voice and tone stuttering. Clearly that was unexpected to him too. They were all staring at the guy, a long, lingering moment of silence before Stark suddenly burst into laughter, the sound echoing around the room as he turned away and Bucky turned a glare on the billionair, staring daggers at him before turning his gaze on Hawkeye, the wide smirk the man held making him falter for a moment.

“You heard me,” the Archer said with an almost smug grin growing from the smirk. The guy then walked over to him, reaching out his hand to him politely. “Name’s Clint,” there was a moment of complete silence, bar for Stark’s hysterical laughter and he just watched the guy, staring at him and not bothering to hold his own hand out.

“Bucky,” he pocketed his flesh hand and turned his exterior casual, though he was very tense on the inside. He just knew how to hide it really well. The Soldier watched him closely, calculatingly. He had no idea what was going through the Archer’s head. Why in god’s name would he say ‘that’ of all things as some kind of greeting. 

Hell, he knew he used to act out like that for women, but he’d been literally flirting with them to take them home, but this? Hawkeye fucking flirted with him? Him!? What the hell was going through his mind. Bucky had a word that described this that could be added to Steve’s list of names for this guy and he was thinking ‘Suicidal’. 

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” and that was it. Barely any other word was said between them. There were stares, on both parts. Though Barton’s was more visual appreciation than ‘Stop staring at me or I’ll tear your lungs out’. 


	2. Day Two

The apartment room they were given was nice enough. Cozzy even. It wasn’t too big, which was what Barton had apparently asked for. It seemed he was used to smaller buildings, smaller apartments. A two person living space. It wasn’t too small either, enough room for them to pass by each other at any point and not need to have any physical contact. It was good, decent. Comfortable and… sort of warm. Like, it was a home-sweet-home sort of place. 

There weren’t even any of Stark’s extravagant tech here. Yeah, there was a huge tv and the tech was still advanced, but not by too much. They had the necessities and thensome. But not too much. Hell, he even pulled Jarvis from the building so it was just himself and Barton. Well… he was pulled from the building as in, he wouldn’t talk or wake them up or do anything for them. It was physically just the two of them. Jarvis was there to monitor and only break silence when it was of utmost importance, or when the team was returning or when Stark wanted them to know something.

Bucky was in the kitchen, cleaning up the countertops where he’d just finished making breakfast, or well… late breakfast. He’d had the idea of making it for the two of them when Barton woke up, just to keep himself busy, but it was well into the early afternoon and he was starting to get peckish. So he decided to make food and then wake him up. It wasn’t a surprise or anything, but it’d probably shock the Archer that breakfast was ready. And maybe a cup of coffee. 

At the thought, he’d reached over and flipped the kettle switch, letting it boil. Bucky then wiped his hands on a towel and glanced over to the cooked breakfast sitting on the table, heat rising from it in a light mist. He tossed the towel aside and headed for the second bedroom of the apartment, the one that Barton claimed before they even had a chance to relax. 

He stopped at the door and knocked on it with his metal hand, aware that the noise would be louder that way. There was no sound in reply and he did it again.

“Barton,” he called loud enough for the other hear. Nothing. He huffed and turned the handle, stepping in with a frown and seeing that he was, indeed, still in bed, practically naked and face down in the pillow. How the hell was he breathing…

Bucky reached the side of the bed and stared at him, a frown still there.

“Barton,” he called, not getting a reply. He huffed again and reached his hand out, grabbing his shoulder and lightly shaking him, the man instantly flailing like he was a fish out of water, but he was still almost completely asleep, now mumbling to himself and out loud before dropping completely motionless against the bed. He was now lying on his side, his face scrunching from the stirring and awakening and he he took a deep breath in, chest expanding as he yawned, an eye cracking open and then turning to him tiredly.

He rubbed a hand over his face and then relaxed again, both eyes half lidded while he just stayed there, staring at him and looking like he was about to fall asleep again. There was another yawn, his mouth opening wide in his direction. 

“Mornin’, Sour Soldier,” he heard the Archer mumble groggily with a heavy stretch, a few clicks here and there being heard from where he was standing. Bucky crossed his arms, his frown still on his face, which was probably why he called him that.

“Get up. Breakfast,” he replied flatly, his tone almost emotionless. He watched as a more confused frown drew across Hawkeye’s face, one that told him he’d missed something.

“Wha?” Barton tiredly croaked as he rubbed hard at his eyes. Bucky only frowned harder at the lackluster response and huffed again, arms crossing tighter over his chest as he stared harder.

“Breakfast,” he repeated, maybe a bit louder. The centre of his brows pointed down and he could see something like frustration hit the Archer before he turned over on the bed.

“I can’t-,” Barton then seemed to have a moment of realization and then abruptly reached out to the bedside drawers, opening the top one to grab something from inside. A moment of his own realization struck Bucky as he saw the man pull out two little buds and then sticking almost aggressively in his ears, a tired smile on his face as he turned back to the Soldier. “Say it again?” he was stuck for words, even his arms loosened, gradually lowering to his sides. The guy was deaf? Geeze…. No wonder he didn’t hear him.

“Breakfast,” his tone dropped, almost docile as he eyed the Archer a bit more calculatingly. 

“Nooooo,” he suddenly whined, hastily throwing himself over to face away and into the pillow, his voice muffling. Bucky almost immediately turned to face away with a frown returning when he saw that the asshat was naked. “I’ll make it later,” the Archer added into the pillow and Bucky had to control himself from sticking his boot across the guy's head. 

“Idiot.  _ I _ made breakfast,” he emphasized, voice gritty and deep from actually trying to concentrate and trying to resist hitting him with something. It was taking a lot of self control.

“ _ You _ made breakfast?” Barton then turned over, the blanket hopefully now covering him again. Bucky glanced back to see that it had and the Archer was sitting up, the sheets just covering his groin. His lower hips and everything above that was bare. He hadn’t actually expected him to be  _ that  _ broad. His uniform and casual clothes did well to hide him.

“Yes,” he answered simply before turning to leave the room. He wanted the food to be warm when he actually ate it. He clearly had to rethink his initial assessment of the man. It was a clear disadvantage if the hearing aids were wrecked. Didn’t stark offer him something? Or maybe he did and Barton turned him down. He seemed the type to not like that kind of help.

And the body had been a mild surprise. He was bigger with muscle than he’d previously thought. Though, he should’ve realized that beforehand. The guy would have to be strong if he’d used a bow and arrows since he was young. He needed the strength, and using that kind of weapon would give someone that kind of muscle.

He hadn’t thought that he’d be slightly broader than himself though.

Bucky rounded the table to reach the counter before grabbing two mugs and going about pouring some coffee powder and sugar in. He knew how he liked it, though was unsure on Barton, so he’d done two of the same. The Soldier then grabbed the scalding kettle with his metal hand and poured the water in, watching the dark brown liquid fill up the cups.

He took a sharp glance over his shoulder when he heard a yawn, seeing Barton tired and sluggishly walking in while rubbing at his face before taking a seat at the table. There was a few moments of silence, a fork hitting the plate and a kettle being put down being the only sounds. He stirred the mugs and picked the two up, turning and walking a few steps before putting them down on the table, his arm stretching out a bit further to place Barton’s at his side. That meant that he’d leaned over the table, directly in front of-

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” Bucky paused, his hand returning to his side with a confused and stunned expression on his face.

“What?” he quirked a brow, frowning straight after he’d registered what he’d said. Another pickup line? Like the day before.

“Because those blue eyes of yours belong to an angel,” … Bucky sighed, reaching out for his plate and coffee and then headed towards his own bedroom, deciding to eat and stay in there for a while. He wouldn’t admit that the line was actually a good one. He’d used many on women back in his time, but that one was knew.

He distinctly heard a light laugh before he closed his door.


	3. Late Night Two/Early Day Three

Of course Barton would be awake at 4 in the morning. It was technically the third day he’d been stuck in this apartment with him and obviously, he should’ve taken into account his shitty sleeping pattern. 

Bucky was staring up at the ceiling, lying on his back with his flesh arm cradling him from under his pillow. He was continuously sighing with each step he could clearly hear from Clint’s room and the living room. The guy was just… walking around. Sleep walking? Did the guy sleep walk? Christ...

The Soldier turned his head to stare at his clock, 4:25am staring back in bright red writing and he huffed, groaning to himself before forcing himself up. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, taking a moment to stretch and roll his shoulders before heading over to the door. He was wearing a pair of bed pants and a t-shirt, his usual attire for sleeping. 

He reached out for the handle and pulled the door open, his body tensing at seeing the Archer so close, his fist up like he’d been about to knock. They were both still and silent, staring at each other while standing so close.

It was Barton that broke the quiet, clearing his throat and lowering his hand. A tired smile casually drew across his lips, but even Bucky could see that he was tired, and… down. He had rubbed raw eyes. Nightmare? Did he had a nightmare? He looked like what Bucky did after he had one. He looked spent.

“I lost my teddy bear, will you sleep with me,” and there was the damn pickup line of the day… night? No, it was the third day, sort of. He sighed deeply, his own eyes easing up from the lack of sleep and he reluctantly stepped aside. Yeah, he was given a stupid pickup line, but he understood that under that, he probably needed it. Bucky wasn’t going to deprive him of something he really needed. Even if that meant sleeping in the same bed.

He watched as the Archer tired slouched passed and crawled over the unused side of the bed, dropping face first in the pillow while awkwardly drawing the blankets over himself. Bucky shook his head and closed the door, heading back over to the bed with a yawn before dropping down and slipping back under the covers, lying on his side and facing away from Barton.

There was a few long, lingering moments of silence and just soft breathing before there was shifting, some heat getting closer. He could feel it through his shirt and the blanket between them. He was getting closer, the Archer. He stayed silent and calm as he felt him finally align himself with Bucky, an arm slipping over his waist and just draping itself there.

He said nothing and just let him, too tired and disinterested to do anything about it. Who cared if he was the small spoon in this scenario. 

Bucky felt a hot breath on the back of his neck and then a face was buried in his neck and hair. He was being cuddled… like a  _ Teddy Bear _ . Did the guy actually lose a teddy bear or something?

\----------

No pickup line left Clint’s mouth in the day. Everything was calm. They had breakfast, watched tv and Clint got a workout in while shirtless and breaking a sweat, to which he’d deny having watched until after his death.

All in all, the day had been relaxing.


	4. Day Four

He let the water run over him, running down his body to remove the soap and suds. Yesterday had been odd, waking up with clint still cuddling him and breathing hotly against him. He’d been more evasive during the morning, not wanting to talk about it and no other pickup line was sent his way during the day. 

Though it was  mildly awkward from Bucky’s point of view, it’d been… comfortable during the day, quiet and they said nothing of what happened. Nor did he ask about the nightmare he knew the Archer had to make him want to join Bucky in bed.

It was just casual talking and hanging around, watching tv and cooking and reading. 

Bucky turned the shower off and stepped out of the steamed up glass box, wrapping a towel around his waist before the water immediately started dampening it. He tied it up and then his hair, after he rubbed it over roughly with another towel. It was in a tight bun at the base of his head and he left it like that as he left the bathroom, between Clint’s room and his own. The cool air hit him and the smell of coffee, Barton having made one while he’d been in the shower, no doubt-

“Am I living on a fault line...or is that just you rocking my world?” Bucky snapped his gaze in the Archer’s direction, watching him with a flat stare as he stared back, sitting at the table and directly facing him with a mug of coffee covering the lower half of his face. He wasn’t exactly staring him in the eye, no. He was staring him over, eyeing him up and down like he was.. A piece of meat.

Bucky paused between the space of the bathroom and his door, quirking a brow at Clint with strong curiosity.

“Why d’you keep doing that?” he asked calmly, eyeing him over. There had to be some reason and he wasn’t just going to accept something simple, like ‘it’s fun’ or ‘it’s easy to irritate you with them’. Firstly, they were stupid reasons, and secondly, it was expected of him.

“Doing what?” he was playing dumb and it made Bucky’s brow twitch. He eyed him with a deep stare, one of his ‘don’t bullshit me’ expressions, as Stark pointed out.

“The pickup lines. Why d’you keep using them,” he clarified, his grip tightening on his towel when the Archer eyed him over again. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that it was making him a tad self-conscious. It wasn’t like him to feel it. It was uncharacteristic of him.

“Because I can, and they’re obviously working,” his tone made it sound like a fact, and Bucky’s shoulders broadened at that, a slight defensive twitch in his muscles. Because it wasn’t working. He frowned at the Archer, almost wanting to stare him down to change his answer.

“No, they’re not,” he replied with his thought. He huffed lightly through his nose, seeing the smirk growing around his mug. What the hell was the guy thinking now...

“Then why’re you interested,” … what? Bucky’s brow creased in more confusion than anything. What did he mean by that? He’d only stopped to-  “Could just ignore ‘em, but you stopped to ask,” his body tensed for a moment, his mouth closing in a tight line at the sudden realization sparking in his brain. He’d stopped and asked because he wanted to know… interest. 

He frowned at the Archer, seeing the smirk grow again, now a full grin. Clint put his mug down and just beamed at him, watching him with a warm expression and it sent a soft shiver up the Soldier’s spine. Bucky grunted and forced himself to look away, taking a step towards his room, and then another and another.

He could practically feel the grin boring through his back as he opened his door and stepped in, almost slamming it behind him. 

Bucky wasn’t interested. He couldn’t be. He didn’t want to be. It’d make everything much more complicated. He’d hoped that he’d left that kind of ‘want’ back in the 1940’s, before Hydra… He supposed that he was still, in some way, that guy from before. It wouldn’t be impossible for him to want something, to be interested. But it would just make things much more awkward for him and the one he was interested in….

He wasn’t interested dammit!


	5. Day Five

Clint suggested a day out, just a simple walk in the park to get some fresh air, since Bucky had been way more tense after the incident the day before, and he’d been all for it. He’d gone about dressing in his casual clothes that were a bit nicer than his usual attire. Street worthy, and he’d be judged less for what he was wearing.

Hell, he’d only stepped out of his room while slipping a glove on his left hand and he heard the low whistle leave Clint’s face. He creased his brow and turned towards him, seeing the visual appreciation. Bucky was being stared at again, and this time, the Soldier was less surprised and stunned, but more exasperated. He huffed back, deciding to ignore it and go about his-

“Do you have a mirror in your pocket, because I can see myself in your pants,” there was a moment of heat fluttering in his chest at that and he turned a frown on him, pausing to stare him down.

“Clint, I swear ta-,”

“Oh, first name basis, huh?” the Archer cut him off with a grin as he leaned over the back of the couch, staring at him and giving him a few glances over, like he really was appreciating the view and not just messing with him, which was what he thought Clint was doing from the first pickup line. “I’m winning you over, I can feel it,” he added with a flick of his brows.

“No you can’t, shut up,” he immediately evaded, turning away from the Archer as he finally got a glove on his hand and went about getting his wallet and keys, because Clint couldn’t hold onto them for shit. He’d already locked them out twice when grocery shopping. It was thanks to their lockpicking skills that they actually got back in. He’d almost stuck his boot in Barton when he’d said  _ ‘Who needs keys anyway’ _ . 

“I say Starbucks first and then park. That cool?” Coffee actually sounded pretty good right about then. Coffee and maybe a ham and melted cheese panini. That sounded honestly great. There was a store next to the Starbucks he knew Clint wanted to go to that sold them. He’d been there a few times before with Steve and Sam.

“Don’t see why not,” he answered calmly, pocketing the keys and striding over to grab his jacket. Clint followed close behind,  _ too close _ actually. He could feel the heat radiating from where the Archers front was practically touching his back. There was no need for him to be that close, he knew that for a fact.

He decided to ignore it, trying harder when the man reached closer to grab his own jacket, his back and rear of his jeans coming into contact with Clint’s chest and the front of his pants. He literally brushed up against him and he knew for a damn fact that it was done purposefully. 

Bucky creased his brow and said nothing as he simply stepped forward and fixed his jacket before opening the door and stepping out. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the smirk and stare as the Archer slipped on his own jacket. He  _ did  _ do it on purpose.

“I’m buying,” Clint then announced as he closed the door behind him, the door locking on its own from there. Bucky assumed he meant the coffee. He noticed that he then reached for his pockets as they strode down the hallway to the elevators, his grin dropping as he started patting himself down.

Bucky huffed and reached into his pocket, aware that Clint forgot his wallet. He’d been making a silent point, aware that he wouldn’t have looked for it before leaving the apartment. The Soldier pulled his hand back out, holding the Archer’s wallet in hand and it was suddenly taken from his grin with a grin.

“Thank fuck,”

“Don’t let Steve hear you say that,” he teased lightly and dryly, his arms crossing over his chest as Clint pocketed his wallet…. In Bucky’s pants. 

His eyes widened and he almost flinched, trying hard not to when the guy's hand was pressed against his jean clad ass, inside the pocket. Bucky swallowed thickly, his muscles twitching at the light feel of his fingers and palm putting some pressure against his denim covered cheek. He was going to kill the Archer before the week was out.


	6. Day Six

So… long story short. Bucky may have broken his bedroom door off of its hinges while he’d been cleaning up. 

Clint had been making him edgy that morning, staring at him and purposefully touching him when they passed by each other or when they sat on the couch together and at the table, their legs brushed. There was so much room in the place that they didn’t need to brush past each other, but Clint did, and it was making him act out oddly.

He’d gotten edgy when Barton left to get some coffee, because they ran out. And Bucky decided that he’d take the time to clean. He had the hoover out of the closet and was cleaning the carpet, that included the one in his room. He’d done Clint’s already, even straightened out his bed and drawers. Like the Archer would give a damn that he straightened everything.

Anyway, he had a moment of frustration because he wasn't sure how to handle whatever the hell was going on between his body, his head and Clint with his stupid pickup lines. He ended up slamming his metal fist into the thick wood, at an odd enough angle that it broke from its hinges until it was just lying on the floor with a fist sized dent in it. Thankfully there was no hole.

He was fixing it back up, a screwdriver in hand to replace the hinges when the front door was opened. Bucky only had to glance up to see Barton standing in the doorway, pausing and staring at him as he just knelt there. 

“The hell happened? I leave for a few minutes and you take your door off?” the Archer even quirked a brow at him, a hand waving out as if to emphasize to the fact that his door was practically hanging from a hinge. What made this amusing was that Clint hadn’t left him alone until now, and he came back to this, when nothing had gone wrong until now. So, there would be a future hesitation to actually leave him alone again.

“Better that it’s  _ my  _ door, not yours,” Bucky huffed in reply before he returned to putting the door back on. It wouldn’t take too long, he knew how to fix a damn door. It was simple, no amount of brainwashing could stop him from fixing something this simple.

“Speaking of doors…“ Bucky paused again, stopping to stare at him with more confusion. Because, what the hell was he going to talk about now? Why the hell did a door remind him of something… “Wanna play house?” …..

“What?” Bucky replied with complete exasperation, shaking his head like he was an idiot, because  _ he was an idiot _ . He just stared at him, giving him one of his best and well mastered _ ‘bitch face’ _ . 

“You be the door and I'll slam you,” of fucking course! 

Bucky’s eyebrows darted straight up into his hairline from that one. It wasn’t as PG or as subtle as the others. Definitely drop. He actually dropped the screwdriver and was staring at him with wide eyes and all Clint did was scoff, biting at his lip to hold in what Bucky knew was hysterical laughter.

He upped his game, he really did. Bucky actually felt some heat rising to his face from that one. The one simple pickup line forced the image into his head. Bucky bracing himself against the wall with his forearms while Clint was behind hi-...

“Fuck sake, Clint,” he almost growled, dropping back to sit against the doorframe with his arm resting over his knee. Barton only grinned at him as he headed into the kitchen area to unpack the things. Bucky sat there, the Archer now out of view and he raised a hand to his face, covering his eyes with a huff. 

That line did actually affect him, he felt the slight heat change in his cheeks and neck and then when the image appeared in his head, it sent a warm flutter around his chest. The damn idiot was getting to him. He was worming his way under his skin and in his head.

“By the way, bought you Plums…. _ I’d like to stick my cucumber between yours _ ,” two in the span of a minute!

“Fuck off!” he cursed back agitatedly, though he did reluctantly get up to go and grab a plum. He was hungry.


	7. Day Seven

“Okay, so…” Bucky knew that when a conversation started with that, it tended to be something the person did wrong and he was owning up to it. So the Soldier turned a tight stare on the Archer from where he was sitting on the couch, the tv paused on a scene in a movie called Bourne Legacy. It was a good movie and it was rather odd, but the actor, Jeremy Renner had one helluva resemblance to Clint. “I may have broken the washing machine…”

“What!?” he stared at him with an incredulous expression, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. Bucky almost immediately stood up, tossing the remote aside before heading into the room at a brisk pace. He stopped as he rounded the corner, staring at the machine. It was clean, not broken. It was perfectly fine. The Soldier stared at it with a frown, confused until Clint walked in behind him, the man becoming the victim of his glare.

“What the hell, Clint…” he almost growled.

“I wanna treat you like a washing machine and fill you with my dirty load,” that’s it!

Bucky grabbed him by his shoulders and shirt and whirled him around until he aggressively slammed him into the wall. He got right up in the Archer’s face, a scowl on his brow.

“Stop it with the damn pickup lines!” he almost yelled, still right up in his face about it, but Clint didn’t seem that bothered at all. In fact, he was calm, too calm and it just pissed him off more that he was taking this so fine.

“It’s not the pickuplines that’s bothering you though… is it,” he didn’t so much as falter as he did quirk a brow. Because, no, the pickuplines were just something that set him off. He already figured that much out. It was Clint’s motive behind them. He seemed interested and it was making him worry and overthink and it was irritating him that he couldn’t rationalize any of it.

“Let me make it clear, Barnes,” there was a moment of silence before he saw the Archer’s hand carefully reach up, brushing his jawline his with thumb before threading his fingers through the hair at the back of his head, the palm then curling the back of his neck before easing him closer.

His breathing hitched when he felt Clint’s lips on his own, hot and moist as they slipped against his and Bucky could feel his heart rate pick up just a tad, Clint pressing closer again. A few seconds of that and he felt the Archer lift away from the wall, slowly swapping their positions until Bucky was the one with his back to the wall. Being pressed back with the other man aligning their bodies and with Clint’s waist and chest holding him to the wall. Bucky was in this sort of sandwich position, between the wall and Archer.

He felt his mouth angle change, Clint tilting his head to press their mouths closer and harder, the lips getting rougher, frantic almost. He could feel their hips grinding, their jeaned fronts rubbing and rutting against each other-

Clint’s laptop suddenly started beeping and Bucky swore he’d throw it out of the window if it wasn’t important. Because the Archer stilled, his body stopping entirely and he was being stared at with an almost exasperated expression, like the guy wanted this so bad, but he knew that ignoring whatever it was would be a move he’d regret.

“Hooooooooookay,” Clint took a few deep breaths, eyeing him with a forced smile before seeming to  _ reluctantly  _ pull away. Though he had and hold of Bucky’s arm and dragged him along, over to the table where the laptop was open and showing the ‘skype’ image flashing in the corner. The Archer sat down and Bucky stood behind him, leaning against the chair the other was sitting in. “It’s Steve,” he clicked on the image and it grew across the entire screen, said man’s face appearing shaikly on screen. He was using his phone?

“Hey, Clint, Bucky,” the man grinned into the  camera, looking messed up and dirty. Must’ve been one helluva down and dirty fight. He was practically covered in mud and scratches. 

“How’s the job, Cap?” Clint asked with a calm grin, one of his usual lazy ones. Bucky watched the Captain walking, entering the Quinjet that Stark claimed months ago. He saw the tin-man walk past, giving a wave.

“Everything went well. We’re coming back. Anything happen while we were on mission?” Steve seemed to wince for a second and then cover it up with a smile. Bucky would give him a lecture later, about letting himself get hurt. He even let out a disappointed huff.

“Barnes fell in love with me,” -and just like that, his disappointed stare turned to a glare aimed at the Archer. 

“Fuck you,” he growled, clipping the man upside the back of his head.

“See?”

“Language, Buck,” Steve turned a disappointment stare on Bucky, but he left the camera view as soon as he aimed it at him, so he didn’t actually get the brunt of it. “What d’you mean?” the Captain asked Barton as Bucky headed to sit on the couch again.

“I meant what I said. I won him over with my charm,” the guy sounded like it was something easy, to get Bucky to like him. It took almost a week to get anywhere with him.

“ _ Fuck you _ ,” he hissed. Because he couldn’t confirm, nor deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And We're Done Here


End file.
